Only Human
by lokilette
Summary: Scorpius is torn between two worlds: the expectations that loom in Malfoy Manor and his true feelings about his comrades at Hogwarts. Will he be able to reconcile the two?


He inhaled sharply and held his breath, scrutinizing the reflection in the mirror. Everything had to be just so. Platinum-blond hair slicked back with no fly-aways. Suit crisp and wrinkle-free, hugging his frame, and tie meticulously fastened around his neck. So much pomp for a simple family dinner. When he was younger, of course, he simply assumed this was the way everyone dined; this was all perfectly normal. Until he met _her_, of course.

At Hogwarts, their fathers had been rivals. They had inherited their Houses from their parents but not their animosity. Through her eyes, he was able to experience a world he never imagined existed, one beyond the cold, solitary confines of the manor. Beyond the soul-crushing expectations and tedious dinner conversations.

"Let's go, dear. Your grandparents are expecting us, and you know how much they hate to be kept waiting."

Of course they did. They hated everything, as far as he could tell, but there was no choice other than to live by their standards. He knew what they wanted. _Just bite your tongue and play the part._

The dinner table was far too long for the six people that were seated at it; they could fit whole countries into the spaces between them. They wallowed in a bitter silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery. Certainly nothing like dinners at Godric's Hollow or the Burrow.

"I'm sure your studies at Hogwarts are going just fine," his grandfather said.

It wasn't a question; it was a demand. The only appropriate answer was yes. Anything less was unacceptable.

"I have the highest grades of any Fifth-Year Slytherin."

"And in the Slug Club, no doubt, like I was when I was your age."

"Of course."

"Of course," his grandfather repeated, not bothering to mask the formality and boredom that crawled into his tone. "I would expect nothing less, given your blood line. Although, I can't help but be concerned about the company you keep. I've started hearing rumors."

"Father." His father's tone was sharp and steady, like the crack of a whip just over a servant's head to deliver a taste of what would come if they didn't fall back in line.

"Don't be so sensitive. I haven't said anything at all. I'm just expressing my concern. After all, we have a duty to uphold our pure-blood status in the face of potential blemishes."

Yes, being a pure-blood came with a lot of responsibilities, all of which had been drilled into him the moment he first drew breath. How to act, who to talk to, how to behave. Grooming him to be raised in the idyllic image of his father and grandfather and countless generations before him. That was acceptable...until he started dating _her_.

At first, he was forced to pretend that her lifestyle wasn't abhorrent and the company she kept less than savory. In the beginning, his love for her was the only thing that was genuine. For the rest, he donned whatever mask was necessary just to get in her good graces.

* * *

"_Hey, uh...so, you know, since you're so good at this potion stuff..."_

_The boy stopped mid sentence, tugging at the neck of his green-and-black robes and casting his green eyes around the room to make sure no one was watching them._

"_Well, you know, I'm not very good at this stuff, and I'm well on the way to failing if I can't figure it out. I guess...I could use some help."_

"_Your father was in the Slug Club, and your namesake is a famous potions master..."_

"_And I can't properly brew a potion to save my life. I know, it's horrible. But if you do me this favor, I'll do you one in return."_

_He didn't say a word, rather knitted his eyebrows in the boy's direction, asking the silent question._

"_I'll start talking you up to my brother and father so they won't hex you into oblivion when they find out you've started seeing my sister."_

_The Head Auror who used to have a grudge against his father and a hot-headed troublemaker who thought the rules didn't apply to him. The offer was tempting and, perhaps, too good to pass up._

"_Fine, let me see your potion."_

_What should have been, by that point, a deep violet color was more of a pale thistle purple. It wasn't stellar work, but it was close enough._

"_Now just add powdered unicorn horn until it turns pink."_

"_Pink. Right. Got it."_

_He turned to his own potion and added in just enough powdered moonstone until it turned a smoky shade of gray. _

"_Hey...uh...how much am I supposed to add? It's not turning pink..."_

_By the time he turned to look, the potion was a mustard yellow, and the surface was starting to gurgle and churn like the belly of an active volcano._

"_What did you do?"_

"_Nothing! I just added it like you said, but it never turned pink."_

"_Powdered unicorn horn! You added powdered moonstone," he groaned when he realized that the wrong ingredient pile had magically dwindled. There was just enough time to shove the other Slytherin aside and fall on top of him before the potion erupted, showering them with boiling bits of goo._

_The potion had chewed holes through his robes in some spots but left his skin mostly unscathed. He sat up to take stock of the few blisters on his arms. Nothing serious. His body had succeeded in shielding his companion, who appeared rattled but unharmed. The boy smiled meekly, practically quivering in his robes. Such a disgrace to the Slytherin name._

"_The good news," he said, voice shaking and belying his true feelings despite the grin plastered on his face, "is that now I can really talk you up, what with saving my life and all."_

_There were so many words that were vying to come out. He yearned to tear into him, tell him how much of an idiot he was, that he was a disgrace to not only his namesake but all the accomplishments of his father. He wanted to tell the boy how reckless he was, call him useless._

_It took every bit of restraint he had in him to fake a smile as he held out his hand to pull the boy up. Despite the rage that churned in his gut, he forced a laugh._

* * *

_I can do it._ _Take a deep breath._

_One._

Don't engage. All he wants is an opening to begin his usual tirade. Don't provide it.

_Two_.

Don't get angry. Remember what is expected; be the person they want.

_Three_.

Redirect. Find something safe to discuss.

"Dinner's especially good tonight," he said, sticking another forkful of food in his mouth.

"Yes, the new House-Elf works wonders in the kitchen." His grandmother smiled at him from across the table.

"Hmm, yes, I suppose. Not nearly as bad as the previous one. Couldn't cook to save his life. Dying was quite possibly the kindest thing to happen to him his whole life, the useless simpleton."

His parents exchanged concerned glances across the table, and even his grandmother furrowed her brow ever so slightly. They let silence overtake them once again. Dinner was much more pleasant that way.

He chased a pea around his plate with a fork as he tried to recall when things had started to change. There was no definitive moment, not as far as he could recall. It happened in stages, like a child forced to stand on their own two legs before learning to walk.

* * *

_The first year they dated, they agreed to spend Christmas break at Hogwarts, much to the dismay of both families. He, of course, had a priceless opportunity that would further his career and reputation that was simply too good to pass up. She simply told her father there was a friend who would otherwise spend Christmas alone. It boggled his mind, but her parents had accepted it and gave their well-wishes._

_By the third day of Christmas break, however, it became evident that they would get no alone time if he didn't find a way to get rid of her cousin, who wasn't even supposed to be at Hogwarts. However, the part-Veela had a relationship crisis with her half-werewolf husband that apparently only his girlfriend was capable of solving. No amount of coaxing would convince her to leave. By the fourth day, he'd had enough of playing fly-on-the-wall during their bull sessions._

"_I just don't understand. Everything was going so well. Now, all of a sudden, he won't talk to me, and he's moody all the time. I did something wrong, I just know it! Oh, I don't know what to do anymore."_

"_Here. Give him these." He pulled a pouch filled with a week's worth of vials from his robes and set it in her hands._

"_This is..."_

"_Wolfsbane."_

"_He's not a werewolf." The last word slipped off her tongue in almost a snarl, and her face twisted immediately into regret._

"_That's true, but his father was, and there's a full moon in two weeks. Wolfsbane is hard to come by if you don't know someone who knows their way around a potion. Give that batch to someone in his father's memory."_

"_You think...you really think that'll work?" She chewed on her lower lip as she stared at the pouch, lost in consideration._

"_Of course."_

"_Then I'll give it a try!" _

_Before he could stop her, much to his horror, she threw her arms around him, kissed the air on either side of his cheek, and quickly did the same with her cousin before running off._

_She was staring at him with those bright brown eyes, twirling a strand of red hair around her pointer finger._

"_He's not upset about his father, you know."_

"_I know. All they really need is a bit of communication, but you can't tell her that. She'll go off and muck it all up. A present's a good enough way to start a conversation, I suppose."_

_She smiled from the bottom of her soul, and he had to turn away, hoping she wouldn't notice the warmth that crept into his cheeks._

"_You're so thoughtful," she whispered into his ear as she wrapped her arms around him._

_She was wrong, though. He was selfish. He did what he had to in order to achieve the desired results. Even so, it was nice, in a way, to see the girls' faces light up over such a simple solution. It was nice, for once, to be appreciated for something so small that he could do for another._

* * *

His father, who just couldn't let well-enough alone, attempted to strike up a conversation about some new manuscript or other that was recently added to his collection at the manor.

"Sure, if you like Muggle artifacts," his grandfather interjected at some point offhandedly, as if he had mentioned the weather.

_I can do it. Keep my head down. Just grit my teeth and bear it._

He tuned them out the best he could, burying himself deeper in his exploration of the past. Perhaps the change occurred when her family first accepted him. Not that they were ever really unreceptive, except perhaps her older brother, but that was to be expected. He could recall clearly, though, the first time one of them had ever really stuck their neck out for him when they didn't have to.

* * *

_She came charging at him like an angry hippogriff, and for a moment he considered whether he should just endure her wrath or simply turn down another hall before she reached him. As the saying went, every rose had its thorn, and this one was no different. In the end, he stood his ground._

"_I need your help."_

_He doubted that. She was every bit as clever as her mother, who was lauded as being the smartest witch of her generation._

"_I'm sorry, I forgot that I only exist when you need something."_

"_Fine, that's fair." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, I know I could be more supportive now that you're dating my cousin, regardless of how my father feels about you and your family. But I know you're not a bad person, and I do genuinely need your help."_

_That was about the closest thing to an apology he was destined to get, and it wasn't worth trying to push his luck. In the end, if he turned her away he would risk the wrath of his girlfriend, who had inherited every bit of her mother's quick temper, along with her proficiency with the Bat-Bogey Hex. It was a dangerous combination, so he had no choice but to entertain the request._

"_I'm listening. I can't promise anything more than that."_

"_I need a Polyjuice Potion."_

"_So go make it."_

"_It takes forever. You know that. I need one now."_

"_I'm not sure why you think I keep a spare Polyjuice Potion lying around."_

"_I don't _think, _I'm sure of it. I know you're in the Slug Club, and Slughorn taught you all how to make Polyjuice Potion this year. And I have a cousin in Slytherin who says you kept the bit you made."_

"_Let's assume I do have some. I'd need to know what you want it for before committing to anything."_

"_You don't even have to give it to me. It's not _for_ me. It's for a cousin. She's having, well, relationship issues."_

"_That doesn't surprise me. It's always relationship issues with you lot."_

"_Grab the potion and meet me on the fifth floor. We won't be hard to find. Just follow the sound of bickering."_

_As much as he hated the idea of being late to class – and, even more so, being bossed around by a know-it-all – there was nothing left to do but to comply. There was no reason not to. So he made his way back down to the dungeons, rifled through his possessions until he found the small vial of potion, and headed for the Grand Staircase._

_True to her word, they were easy to find. One of his girlfriend's cousins – of course it was, nearly everyone at Hogwarts was related to her – was arguing with a pair of Ravenclaw twins, who were identical from their shoulder-length, blond hair to their matching shoes._

"_I don't understand why you're so upset! I didn't really do anything wrong," she was shouting, hands flying in a million different directions to animate her speech._

"_You're right, you _don't_ understand," one of the twins quipped back._

_Every fiber of his being screamed a warning. Danger. Don't get involved. Even as he parted his lips to speak, his common sense was screaming to close his mouth and not interfere. He didn't listen._

"_Looks like there's a bit of a problem here."_

_As soon as he said the words, he almost regretted them, with four sets of eyes staring at him like he had murdered their pet owl or something._

"_Yes! These two have pulled a cruel joke on me and somehow it's _my_ fault because-"_

"_We were supposed to be dating!" one of the twins cut her off._

"_We _are _dating. Well, sort of...I mean, we went on dates."_

"_I don't see the problem here," he said, eyes darting between them. Only one twin was arguing. The other stood slightly behind him with his fingers entwined behind his back like he was just along for support._

"_Well, technically I went on four dates with him...and three dates with his brother. Or maybe it was five dates with him and two with his brother."_

"_This is ridiculous! You can't even tell us apart! You don't know _who_ you're dating."_

"_Well, of course I can't tell you apart. You're _identical_."_

_Apparently, her name wasn't the only thing she got from her grandmother; she had also inherited her inability to distinguish between twins. The Gryffindor next to him jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow and motioned her head towards the arguing couple. When he didn't immediately react, she spoke up._

"_Guys, the Slytherin has a solution to your problem." All eyes turned to him once again. "Well, hurry up now."_

_Without a word, he pulled the vial from his robes and handed it to the girl before him, who turned it in her hands, examining the liquid with knitted brows._

"_I don't understand," she finally confessed._

"_Well, she-," he started, pointing to the Gryffindor beside him, who hastily cut him off._

"_I ran into him in the hall, and I just didn't know what to do so I asked him. He offered this as a solution, and I thought it suited the situation just fine, so I agreed to go along, of course. Go on, tell them what your idea was."_

_He stared at her, trying to figure out what game she was playing. They both knew she was lying, obviously, but her brown eyes were wide and innocent. Whatever the reasoning, her expectations were clear, so he just went with it._

"_Well, it's a problem of understanding. You don't know what it's like to be a twin. But if you were, say, to take some Polyjuice Potion and be someone's twin for a day then maybe you would get a sense of what an identity crisis it might be, always being mistaken for another person you know you're not."_

"_That's brilliant!" the twins shouted in unison._

"_Your cousin has agreed to be your doppelganger for a day."_

_Everyone seemed satisfied with the solution, and the love-triangle trio went off to discuss the implications of their social experiment. The Gryffindor hung back with him, looking so ridiculously smug at her accomplishment._

"_I don't understand why you didn't just tell them the truth."_

"_Because, regardless of what happened between our parents, my cousin sees you as her hero. I don't want to do anything to mess that up, and having one more win in your favor never hurts." She paused, as if debating whether to continue, before rolling her eyes and adding, "Besides, she's stubborn as her father. Won't listen to a bloody thing anyone in the family tells her. Would rather hear it from a stranger."_

* * *

"Let it go, Father." His father's sharp tone was enough to draw him back into the conversation with mild interest. Not that the two going at it was anything unusual.

"You act like I've said something horrible. All I'm saying is that this family should have _standards_ as far as who they associate with."

"My son will associate with whoever it is he sees fit to."

"But that family. You know what they've done to us. Why, of all people, why even _think_ to bring that into our blood line."

"They're dating, Father, not married, and certainly not having children."

"Not yet, perhaps, but if you allow this, if you don't put an end to this nonsense, then it's only a matter of time. You know what they're like."

Perfect. That's what they were like. Perfect, even with every bit of their flaws. Especially _her_.

* * *

"_I shouldn't be here," he whispered, but even as the words came out he pulled her closer, burying his face in her silky hair._

"_I didn't imagine that you, of all people, would be nervous about sneaking out after-hours."_

"_That's...not what I meant." _

_Although, he had his reservations about the possibility of being suspended, of course. But the way she looked with the moonlight crowning her fiery hair, his worries dissipated. Even expulsion would be a worthy sacrifice to be there, at that moment, and sit with her by the Black Lake, underneath the stars._

"_It's because of our parents. My father doesn't mind, honest he doesn't. And your parents seem fine with it."_

"_Yes, but...my grandparents..."_

_Every Sunday at the weekly dinners, even after dating for months, it was always mentioned. Without fail. He came to dread those dinners, but family was important. There was nothing he could do but bow his head and follow his parents to the dinner table like an obedient puppy._

"_If it's so difficult for you, if it would make you happy, then maybe...maybe it would be easier if you just forgot me."_

"_I've thought about it. I considered how much easier it would be to just fall in line with whatever expectations my family have. I did, and I've tried, but...I can't forget you without forgetting myself."_

_He never told her that the two-minute stalemate during his sorting was spent convincing the Sorting Hat that Slytherin was his proper house when it had been so ready to put him in Gryffindor. He could never admit that he didn't mind her part-Veela cousin, though he could do without receiving la bise every time they saw each other. Her youngest brother was the best friend he had, and every bit of him was proud to be friends with perhaps the most hopeless potion maker he had ever met. And her older brother, though they didn't always get along, he was envious of the boy's ability to be so carefree and easily amass a group of friends._

_He never admitted that he enjoyed time at the Burrow, despite being packed in like sardines, or that he looked forward to their visits to Godric's Hollow, though her parents' house was certainly no manor like his._

_There were no words to begin to express it, so he wrapped her hand in his, resting his head on her shoulder._

* * *

_I can do it._

His hands clenched into fists, pressed firmly against his thighs.

"They don't deserve our attention. That lot is _beneath _us."

_I can do it._

His nails bit into his skin, and his palms burned as they drew blood.

"That's enough. This conversation is over." His father hadn't raised his voice yet, but his tone made it obvious that he was dangerously close to resorting to it.

"Like hell it is, if you think I'll meekly accept my grandson consorting with Mudbloods, half-breeds, and blood-traitors!"

_I can...only take...so much._

His body acted of its own accord, standing up with such force that his chair tipped back and skittered across the floor. A warmth flooded him from the pit of his stomach, and though he knew it wasn't right he didn't try to stop it. He let the magic overcome him, and it exploded in a brilliant flash of white, overturning the table and sending food flying in all directions.

His father must have expected it, having put up a last minute shielding charm that the meal bounced off of harmlessly. His mother, though covered in what remained of dinner, looked amused. His grandparents, less so.

Without a word, he left the dining room and took shelter in one of the drawing rooms, moving close to the fire. He was almost surprised to find that his hands were shaking, as he held them out to the flames, and no amount of concentration would steady them.

The door opened and closed with a small click, but he didn't look up.

"Well, that was quite the display." His father's tone was even as he approached, and his voice was soft.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning to face his father. "I know my behavior was inappropriate, but..."

His father held up a hand, shaking his head slowly, and he fell silent.

"My father's views are not the same as mine or your mother's or yours. It was bound to happen eventually. You're only human."

"But now, I-"

"Now, I'm sure you'll run off to your girlfriend's house, like most boys your age when they have a row with their family. But first, sit."

He reluctantly took a seat in the armchair closest to the fire, and his father sat across from him, elbows resting on his knees with his fingers intertwined.

"I want to tell you a story about a boy I knew who, very much like you, felt like he was trapped between two worlds."

"Does it end well?"

"I like to think so, but I suppose you'll have to decide that for yourself. This boy was born in 1980 to a pure-blood family, at the height of the Dark Lord's reign, a year before he fell for the first time..."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Writing without using names is difficult. D: Reviews are loved and appreciated. Told from Scorpius' point of view.

**For the Grand Battle Challenge. **

**Prompts-**

**Dialogue: 6 points**

"**I've tried, but I can't forget you without forgetting myself."**

"**I'm sorry, I forgot that I only exist when you need something."**

**Character: 16**

**Lily Luna Potter (6), Albus Potter (5), Rose Weasley (2), Lorcan Scamander (3)**

**Pairing: 14**

**Scorlily (3), Teddy/Victoire (5), Lysander/Molly/Lorcan (6)**

**Restrictions: 4**

**Do not use any "?"**

**Do not use any names**

**Potion Prompts: 12**

**Polyjuice Potion (7), Wolfsbane (5)**

**Song: 5**

"**Human" by Christina Perri**

**Total Points: 57**

**Disclaimer:** Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K. Rowling.


End file.
